Mi Casa, Su Casa, went...
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"Mi Casa, Su Casa," went the first line of a fifties pop song: "My house is your house." Many of us, growing up, sang this in Sunday church school: "Come into my heart, come into my heart, come into my heart, Lord Jesus, come in today, come in to stay ..." The two songs are the same.
Advent blends into Christmas with a gnawing ache in each of us, suggesting our house is not God's dwelling place in any sense of the word. David gnawed with the same discomfort: he lived in a cedar palace; God lived in a tent. What did that say -- what does it say -- about David's (and our) priorities? We come to Christmas frequently with greed in our hearts and God on the back porch. In spite of the disclaimer in this text (God truly doesn't need a palace, after all) we know before we celebrate the birth of one who took a stable rather than Ramada, that it's time for us to do some quick remodeling -- and maybe some long-term rebuilding, in the chamber where our heart is.
Advent blends into Christmas with a gnawing ache in each of us, suggesting our house is not God's dwelling place in any sense of the word. David gnawed with the same discomfort: he lived in a cedar palace; God lived in a tent. What did that say -- what does it say -- about David's (and our) priorities? We come to Christmas frequently with greed in our hearts and God on the back porch. In spite of the disclaimer in this text (God truly doesn't need a palace, after all) we know before we celebrate the birth of one who took a stable rather than Ramada, that it's time for us to do some quick remodeling -- and maybe some long-term rebuilding, in the chamber where our heart is.
